


the color of sunset

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Keene
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Vietnam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ned thinks he sees a familiar face in the jungles of Vietnam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the color of sunset

They were in the back of a jeep riding down another misty stretch of muddy path when he thought he saw her.

It couldn't be. He'd left her eight months ago, standing on a train platform staring after him with her hair flipped up at the ends and that same wry smile on her face, and his diamond solitaire on her left ring finger. She'd been just about to start another case, of course, and he hadn't wanted to go. Even though his parents had taken him to sit-ins instead of daycares when he was too young to understand what was going on, he'd still found himself drafted.

And he hated this place. Every morning he woke up hating this place a little more, hating the low mist and the way his clothes never felt clean or dry, the way nothing they did ever seemed to make a damn bit of difference, at all.

But he hadn't seen that many women with that particular shade of sunset-red hair here, either.

"Can't be," he muttered to himself.

When they made it back to camp half the company was out on a raid, and his best friend was hurt, and Ned half-hoped that he'd see that girl again. It had been a girl, he knew that. Maybe she did look a little like Nancy. Maybe he'd find her there again and confirm that he wasn't seeing things, that he didn't just miss her and his normal life so much that he was going out of his mind.

They were in the big tent, the air close and hot, waiting for news between the IV drips and groaning men, when he felt a hand press into his. "Hey."

He turned and she was standing beside him, her blue eyes dancing with amusement when they caught the shock in his. "Nancy," he gasped. "What—"

"Come on," she replied, tugging at his hand, and he followed her willingly as she left the tent.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, wonder in his voice. "I mean, I don't think I've gone a single day without thinking of you—"

She stood on her tiptoes, offering her face for a kiss, and he obliged the way he always had, leaning down to press his mouth to hers, cupping her jaw in his hand. "The president," she explained, when they broke apart, their lips brushing with every word she spoke. Her eyelashes were thick on her cheek. "He called me in, and it was pretty hard to say no. Someone's been stealing medical supplies; they've never been getting here..."

"Yeah," he nodded, then wrapped his arms around her and lifted her bodily off the ground. "God, I've missed you so much."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I was really hoping I'd somehow run into you," she admitted. She sighed. "I just wish it had been sooner."

"Why?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow. The case is finished."

Ned groaned. "You can't be serious."

She held her head steady until he met her eyes, then nodded. "It took me two solid days of arguing for Dad to let me come over here," she said. "He made me swear that I'd come straight back as soon as this was done."

"And you've already caught the bad guys?"

"Both of them," she confirmed.

"Was it dangerous? Did anything happen?"

She just smiled a little bit and looked down, and he took her in, the newly short cut of her hair, the dim gleam of her skin where the sweat touched it. "I'm fine," she said, and still didn't meet his eyes.

He ducked his head in until their mouths were touching again. "You take too many chances, Drew."

"So do you," she whispered, just before returning his kiss.

\--

He didn't ask how she was able to join him at his camp. He was almost convinced that he'd just started hallucinating, that he'd just snapped and lost it.

"They let you wear that?"

Nancy followed his gaze to her fatigues. "I took lightning boot camp," she laughed. "Enough to go undercover without looking like a complete idiot."

They were sitting together, by themselves, at one end of the table for dinner. The other guys kept casting long glances over in their direction, but Nancy never betrayed a hint of nervousness or self-consciousness. He'd talked about her enough; they all had to know who she was.

"So now you can hit the broad side of a barn?"

She grinned and tossed her napkin at him. "I bet I could beat you."

He leaned down, his posture dominating, his eyes boring into hers. "I would almost challenge you to go out right now and see if you're right about that," he said, softly. "Almost. If it weren't so damn dangerous."

She sobered a little. "Guess we'll just have to wait until you get back to River Heights, then," she said, and half-smiled at him.

He'd sworn he'd come back when he'd been drafted. He'd sworn. He returned her smile, a little.

"Because you have to come back."

He took one last bite before he gave up on the meal entirely. "And how long are you going to be able to stay here tonight?" he asked lightly.

"Until the morning," she replied, putting her own fork down. "So if you have any poker games going with the guys, or some late training to get in..."

"I'm sorry, you actually think I'd find anything else to do?" he teased her.

"I was hoping not," she said, giving him a long, speculative glance.

\--

"Can I tell you something?"

She was already sitting down at the foot of his roll, unlacing her boots in the dim glow of her penlight. "I guess," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Without you getting mad?"

"Well, definitely, now," she said, sarcastically, but she softened it with the curve of a smile he could barely see. "Is it bad?"

"My buddies here got me a present a few months ago," he said, feeling solid, motionless. "A Vietnamese girl."

She stopped unlacing her boots, letting her hands fall to the ground underneath, keeping her head bowed.

"Nothing happened."

She tossed her head back and gazed up at him. "You don't have to lie to me."

"I don't," he said, his voice low and clear. "And I'm not now. I didn't want her. She wasn't you."

She tilted her head, then went to work on her other boot.

"And I like your hair longer."

She smacked his solid shin with the flat of her hand, her lip curled back. "Thanks. Same to you, soldier."

He smiled, then knelt down and took a strand of her hair between forefinger and thumb, rubbing it slowly. "I can't believe you're real," he murmured.

She reached up and fumbled with the buttons, until her shirt was hanging loose over her paler skin, smiling as he watched her hungrily. "I'm so glad you are."

He trailed his fingers down the chain holding her dog tags and shook his head a little. "I was wondering where that went."

She didn't even have to look down to see what he was talking about. "I didn't want it to get lost," she said. "Closer to my heart this way."

The ring he'd given her rested just over her breasts as she pushed herself up on her knees and kissed him, slow, lingering. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her to him.

"It's been a while," he teased her, when she pulled back. "Not sure I'll remember how."

"Just like riding..." she trailed off, and grinned. "Well, it's not at all like riding a bike, is it."

They'd had sex, before. During that brief time between his draft letter and proposal, and his departure for training, with the knowledge never spoken but always weighing heavily between them that fewer and fewer of their friends and classmates were making it back, they had fumbled through their first, their second time together. His room at the frat house on lazy weekend afternoons, once when she was staying at a hotel with Bess and George asleep in the other bedroom of the suite. Things had become easier, and he had been happily amazed when her appetite had rivaled his. They'd used condoms every time, but even so he'd wondered in the back of his head whether she was back at home, sitting by the window waiting with a palm resting on a swelled belly. Here she was instead, same flat belly and sardonic teasing smile, half-naked in the bed he'd dreamt about her in so many times.

"Not like riding a bike at all," he agreed.

"Do you have..." She shrugged, a little, holding his gaze.

"Are you kidding? They pass them out with breakfast," he said, digging around in his pack until he found a few by feel.

"So you're the last good man and you still keep condoms, just in case?"

"Hey, they're useful," he defended himself. "Keep stuff waterproof."

"Sure," she drawled. Then she looked down. "I don't want you to think I don't want to do this, but I feel totally covered in sweat, and like I have never been less sexy."

"You in my bed is sexy," he corrected her. "And I fucking hate this place. I hate the food and the weather and the damn troops that never stop, and being this far away from you."

"And compared to all that, my being a little sweaty is nothing?" She shrugged out of her shirt, watching appreciatively as he did the same.

"You even have a little," he said, leaning forward on his knees, and brushed a light smudge of dirt off her cheek. "And I'm still turned on."

"Funny," she said softly. "I am too."

She mounted him first, a move he still found incredibly hot, leaning down to brush her lips over his as her hips found and matched his rhythm. He filled his cupped palms with her breasts, groaning every time she shifted.

"Is everyone sitting with their ear to the door right now?" she breathed, moaning a little as his fingertips trailed down her side to cup her ass, to force her harder against him.

"How would that make you feel?"

"A little dirty," she murmured, gasping when he arched and thrust harder between her thighs. "And a little like we should give them a damn good show."

"I'm not showing them anything," he said, rolling over with her, and she sighed as he settled over her, her own back arched, her legs doubled and opened wide. He kissed her, slowly, while they were still unjoined, until she was pushing her hips in shallow thrusts, a slow vague grind, in the direction of his.

"You want me?"

"Yes," she murmured, closing her eyes as his lips found her earlobe.

"Now?"

"Yes," she groaned, wrapping her legs around his waist as he shifted, matching the angle of his hips to meet hers. "I've missed this so much..."

"Tell me about it," he said, his cock throbbing as he slid, eased his sheathed length inside her and she let her breath out in a long, low pleased moan. "God, you're tight."

"Haven't had you around to keep me occupied," she said, laughing softly, the sound turning into a high gasp as he began to rock inside her. "Oh, oh, oh, Ned..."

He built her up until he could feel her reach the edge, until she was incoherent and meeting his every thrust with the press of her hips. He shifted and eased inside her, deep, and still she rocked, muffling the deep desperate groans of her arousal against his chest, until he was sheathed tight and he could almost feel the wet heat of her against his bare skin, pinning her down with all his weight. He brushed his lips against her temple.

"Have I told you that I love you yet?"

She had to catch her breath before answering. "Not like this."

"I love you."

"I love you," she replied, burying her hands in his hair, her teeth smooth as they brushed his skin. "Now love me."

In the end, he didn't care. He didn't care if what she had said was true and every man he'd fought beside over the past eight months was bent outside listening for every choked moan and gasp that escaped them. He didn't care because when she came he shuddered hard, she was already tight and now she was even tighter, until he felt like he was going to explode if he couldn't, if he didn't feel her. He slid his hands between them and found the smooth button of wet flesh that was her clit, and she screamed, high and ragged, breathless by the end, inner thighs tight against his hips. 

She was gleaming, glowing, after, pale naked limbs stretched over his rough bed, her head nestled into his shoulder. Their skin stuck together everywhere they touched, and somehow the mingled scent of them was stronger, tonight. He reached for her, tugging at her other hip until she was on her side facing him, her breast pressed against his chest.

"Come back with me," she whispered, stroking her open palm over his abs lightly, watching the muscle there ripple in response.

"I can't," he replied. He couldn't even let himself think about it. They found other escapes, here, when it got too bad, pot and dead-black-eyed girls with shallow pale breasts, other ways to reach the height of oblivion. He hadn't gotten that desperate, yet. A steadily shrinking part of him believed that he would be able to stay lucky long enough to get out of here. Somehow.

She stroked the ball of her thumb over the tip of his nipple. "I didn't know how bad it was, really, until I came here," she breathed. "They've been telling us everything is fine, that any day, any month, it'll all be over."

He snorted and reached up to slide his fingers over her hair. "Not hardly."

"I've never felt more useless," she admitted softly. "I made the officer confess, but the way he talked about it, it was like it didn't even matter. So a few fewer men were getting their morphine or codeine. He didn't care. Neither of them did. It's like being here sucks people's lives away."

"It does." He kissed her forehead. "We know that most of us aren't going home. And it's not even like we're seeing any results here. They just keep sending more and more. Younger and younger. The things they ask us to do..." He shivered, a little, under her. "From what my dad's told me about the war, it was nothing like this. Nothing like this incredible fucking waste."

"So come home," she whispered, and began trailing soft wet kisses down the line of his chest, her other hand lingering at his hip. "Come home so we can start our family, like you promised me."

He didn't make any reply. He couldn't. When her kisses trailed below his belly button, each one lingering a little longer than the last, she pulled back to see that he was already erect and ready. She kissed the tip, making him throb suddenly under her, and he felt the briefest touch of her tongue against his cock before she retreated. She straddled his waist, standing on her knees, and took his cock in her hand, stroking the heel of her hand up and down its length as she teased her clit with its tip. His eyes widened in surprise and fear, wondering, a caution rising to his lips that neither one of them was ready for this, for unprotected sex, for the risk of a child. Not while he was still stranded here and she was like some incredible wet dream that would be gone in the morning. She was already beginning to shake as she traced the tip of him deeper, between the folds of wet flesh, until she was holding him poised at her entrance, and he was panting, desperate, all thought of the consequence of this gone. He wanted to feel her, for the first time, feel how wet she was, feel the deep clench of her without anything between them.

Her gaze flicked up to meet his eyes before she swung off him, rummaging in the pile of her clothes.

"No," he groaned, watching her with disbelief. "You can't get me worked up like that and then get dressed."

Then she swung on top of him again, her fingers finding and stroking his shaft a few times before he heard the rip of foil in the dark. She rolled the condom on with a sure stroke of her palm, and he reached for her, his hands cupping her thighs.

"How did you do that?"

"I've seen you do it enough times," she replied, pushing herself up on her knees, grasping his cock to hold him at the right angle before she mounted him. "Did you not like it?"

"No, it was great," he managed, seeking and finding the glint of her eyes in the dark as she took him slowly between her thighs again. There would be other times, another night when he would be able to feel her come from the inside, another night they wouldn't have to stop and remember to take precautions against what they both wanted.

Maybe their wedding night, white satin and the green of his uniform and her, arched and ready and perfect under him.

She bucked against him and he moaned, fingers tightening against her skin. They had already said their vows, the night they had lost their virginity to each other. He was hers, for as long as he lived, and she his. His wife already, in all the ways that mattered.

He tangled his fingers in the chain around her neck, the world going white when he came.

\--

"When are you leaving?"

"Early." Her voice was soft, apologetic.

They were spooned up, listening to the thousand sounds of unquiet night, his knees tucked behind hers and his arm slung over her chest, holding her close to him. Her ass was snug tight against his waist. If he let himself linger on the thought of that, he'd get hard again, and even though he had enough condoms to fuck her twice an hour, he wasn't sure he'd be good for anything else the next day.

Her hair still smelled the same. That, more than anything, made him homesick, made an ache pulse a little harder in the pit of his belly. Soon she would be gone, too.

She wanted him to come with her. He couldn't ask her to stay. He'd never ask her to stay here. He'd almost rather her never have seen any of this, but he'd needed her, God he'd needed her, and he hadn't realized how much until her dog tags were swinging with their every matched thrust and her soft blue eyes had stayed open and staring into his the entire time. Feeling her come was one thing, but watching her while she did it...

She turned over, her ass brushing his cock, starting the chain reaction that was nearly out of his slipping control again. "We could sneak you out in my bedroll."

He rolled on top of her and kissed her slowly, taking his time. Her orgasms were so much more powerful when he drew it out to agonizing slowness, made her wait for it. "Yeah," he agreed. "You must have the biggest bedroll I've ever seen."

"My cases are so much less interesting without you."

"My entire life is so much less interesting without you," he replied.

They probably woke the entire camp, there at the end. They tried to smother their cries in each other's skin but it was difficult, with her hips thrusting up under his so quick that it was almost vibration, matched to the rhythm of her spasms. Finally he collapsed, spent, sheathed completely between her thighs, her weight limp under the force of his. Her mouth found his ear and at the hot touch of her breath against his flesh, he shuddered.

"That was your fingers?"

He nodded, then groaned as she bent her knees and pulled them back toward her chest, shifting the angle of his cock against her still-tight center.

"Maybe when I wake up in the middle of the night missing you so much I could scream, I could try that."

He throbbed, hard, at that image. "It's what I do," he said, ducking his head in to press his mouth against her neck. "Find out what you like and when I come back, you can show me."

"I like you," she replied, tilting her head back to give him better access. "I like you filling me. I like you touching me and kissing me and making me feel like I'm the only other person in the entire world."

"You are." He pulled out of her and rolled the condom off, once he knew that he was finished. "And you," he brushed the backs of his fingers over the damp patch of curls between her thighs, "feel a hell of a lot better than my hand."

\--

He watched her dress. He watched the suggestion of her dress, because the light was too dim to make out anything other than the paler line of her flesh as it was slowly covered by more clothes. When her breasts were no longer bare, when she had tucked the dog tags and the weight of his ring under her shirt, he sighed and found his own fatigues.

The scent of sulfur and powder hung in the air as they had their cups of strong bitter coffee and avoided each other's eyes.

"They'll chopper you out?"

She nodded, keeping her gaze low. "With some wounded men."

"Good. Maybe they'll keep their hands off you."

She looked up, then, finally met his eyes, and he smiled. He was almost shivering under his uniform, not from the cold, it was almost never cold, but he hadn't slept and the fix of getting inside her wore off too quickly. He wanted her again.

He would be shit today. His commander would understand. He needed time to get over the shock of finding and losing her again so damn quickly.

"We didn't do a lot of talking, did we."

She shrugged, a little. "The case is over," she murmured. "And I have to leave you behind. Nothing else really seems to matter."

He nodded. "Yeah."

By the time she was ready to leave, a few of the other men were up and moving around, and from the expressions on their faces they hadn't entirely managed to keep quiet the night before. He could see it. Nancy only had eyes for him.

"I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, easily. This, he didn't care who overheard.

"Promise me it won't be too much longer."

He nodded, even though they both knew it was empty. All he had to do was say the word, and he knew she would use every bit of her influence, the influence of her name and that of her father, to get him home as soon as possible. But too many of the other men here, who had fought and died beside him, hadn't had the same option, and he thought she understood why he couldn't quite bring himself to walk away. Not even for her.

She hugged him, gave him a kiss so brief he could barely feel it, and then she was walking away, fast, with her head down. He watched her until she vanished, willing himself to stay rooted to the spot, because if he went after her he didn't know how it would end.

"So, Nickerson, get yourself a workout last night?"

This role, at least, was familiar, easy to slip into. The guys looked jealous. Maybe now they understood how a prepubescent half-scared girl in the flesh couldn't hold a candle to the woman he had waiting for him.

"Maybe you can get them to send my wife over," his commander chimed in.

His wife. Nancy with a string of dog tags around her neck. Ned forced smiles and appropriate replies, on the inside gone quiet, the whispered rush of a small scared voice all he could hear.

_She came over here and she could have died and I would never have known, and I could have come back to find her with my ring on a chain around her neck and her eyes closed forever._

But she wasn't, she wasn't lost to him, and he closed his eyes and whispered the most fervent prayer that he could muster, that no matter what happened to him she would make it back safe to her father, who would make sure she was safe no matter what, until he could come back and swear to do the same.

They all had their assignments, in the mornings, and ten minutes later Ned was alone, hearing the crack of rifle fire in the distance, as two helicopters rose above the treeline and headed for the coast and safety. He watched them as long as he could, standing, peering at the horizon until they were gone, until she was gone.

Then he felt a hand quietly slip into his. He turned, his eyes shining, and she was beside him again.

"Another day can't hurt," she said, softly.


End file.
